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“I wiped off my fingers, but it wasn't the mold or maggots making my stomach revolt. I had touched mold many times before, and would many times again. I'd handled my fair share of spoiled food, And of course, I'd watched March eat all sorts of things. No, it was the knowledge that all around me sat empty people in rotting clothes, nibbling on flyblown trifles while they spoke of nothing of consequence with fixed smiles on their false faces.” — Margaret Rogerson
I wiped off my fingers, but it wasn't the mold or maggots making my stomach revolt. I had touched mold many times before, and would many times again. I'd handled my fair share of spoiled food, And of course, I'd watched March eat all sorts of things.
No, it was the knowledge that all around me sat empty people in rotting clothes, nibbling on flyblown trifles while they spoke of nothing of consequence with fixed smiles on their false faces.